Five Things Gretel Could Never Be and One that She Was
by zarah joyce
Summary: Maybe it was just because she's Gretel, and her hands would never be gentle, and she was never going to be that person one ran to for assurance and comfort.


**Five Things Gretel Could Never Be**

* * *

_Ina_

She'd always thought children were weak, vulnerable, useless. Noisy, too. Fucking _liabilities_.

It was hard not to, when every witch they hunted kidnapped _children_ to use them for whatever twisted ceremony they'd need them for.

_It's the innocence,_ Ben said, as if Gretel didn't know, and who was the witch hunter far longer between them, anyway? _That - and because they're easier to catch than some adults._

Her smile would always be a bit brittler when there were kids around, and she figured the children at least have enough sense to stay away from her. Maybe they knew she had a witch for a mother? But no, they flocked around _Hansel_, and it wasn't like Hansel and Gretel weren't brother and sister, so no, it wasn't because of their blood.

Maybe it was just because she's _Gretel_, and her hands would never be gentle, and she was never going to be that person one ran to for assurance and comfort. She was not one to hug affectionately and kiss boo-boos and soothe away every fear, every nightmare - especially from a _child_.

Gretel could see herself a few years from now - several if she was lucky - dying alongside Hansel, in that dreadful but possible moment when they've encountered a coven of witches that would be too powerful for the hunters to defeat.

Children might or might not be part of that scenario, but they would never, _ever_ be her own.

* * *

_Asawa_

She was definitely past that age when women had one thing, one goal in mind: get married.

_Thank god._

Outside her brother, she'd yet to find a man tough and strong enough for her liking, one that could, if not best her, at least be her equal in toughness and strength. Most of those she'd met were all _talk_, who either looked down on her because she was a woman or because she wasn't womanly _enough_ for them.

She left them either with a broken nose or a broken dick or _both,_ if she was pissed off enough.

Fuck them all.

Gretel would much rather stay single and free all her (probably short) life than drag along someone who might or might not prove to be a burden to their merry band of witch hunters anyway.

* * *

_Anghel_

There were blood, too much blood, and Ben easily fainted at the sight of gushing blood from the witch's neck, all thanks to Hansel dragging his knife deeply across the thin skin and fragile bones there.

Gretel barely batted an eyelash.

She did, however, raise a brow at how decidedly soft her brother was. "You didn't cut deep enough," she stated simply, then swiped the knife from Hansel's hands to finish the job herself.

The witch was still alive, Gretel could see, when she pressed the knife deep, deep, _deep_ down, and moved it left, right.

Just like slicing cheese, or bread even. Gretel grinned.

When Ben came to and saw what she was doing, he threw up. Gretel laughed.

* * *

_Mahina_

Her bones ached, throbbed. Her skin was a mangled mess of scars and scabs and fresh wounds and really, it was like looking at a work of art by Picasso, if she knew who the fuck Picasso was.

She was suffering a busted lip and bruised arms and legs and there was a nasty gash at her hairline, dripping blood down the side of her face from where the bitch nearly scalped her and she was pretty sure all her hurts would sting like fucking hell tomorrow - _if_ there was still tomorrow.

But then she saw Hansel being lifted bodily from the floor and thrown away like a rag doll, and there was a sickening _thud_ when his torso collided with the brick wall, and he didn't move afterwards and Gretel had never felt more scared or livid in her entire life.

Now it was just her and this fucking bitch and Gretel couldn't lose, because she still had to make Hansel pay for having the audacity to be knocked out cold in the middle of a fucking fight.

* * *

_Normal_

Once, just once, she'd like to celebrate a birthday that could be considered _normal_ by normal people.

Gretel never dared to say it out loud, of course, lest she be mocked by her brother. But in the deepest recesses of her brain she could remember flints of hazy memories - of flickering small candles and two lumps of sweet breads and parcels wrapped with tiny bows -

- of a man and woman smiling at them, telling them to hurry and _wish_ -

And she would blink and the foggy memory would disappear but there was that ache in her heart that wouldn't leave her be.

Then a mug of beer was deposited in front of her, and there was Hansel, bloodstained and beautiful and beaming right at her.

"Happy birthday, sis," he said, before pushing a brand new, _three-way_ crossbow towards her.

Fuck it, she didn't even have a gift for him in return.

* * *

**And One That She Was**

_Kalahati_

One night, it was _Hansel_ who seemingly had a nightmare, _Hansel_ who was bothered by something he wouldn't name.

She'd awakened to find him standing in front of the window, watching, waiting, and it was odd because _she_ was the one who usually did that. It was also odd because that night, Hansel was especially enthusiastic at the thought of sleeping on a fucking bed, after so long.

"Hey," Gretel said, lifting her head off the pillow. "You okay?"

He didn't answer, and she thought he didn't hear her question and considered repeating herself when he said, "You ever think about the things we can't ever be?"

And it was odd to hear him say the thoughts which plagued her when she let them. Gretel blinked, then moved to sit on the bed. It was easier to look at him from this position, after all. "I think it's weird to hear you're even thinking in the first place," she said, because she didn't know how to talk about these things, about regrets and what-ifs and decisions they've done that could never be undone which shaped them into who they were now.

A part of her thought it was stupid to think about what-could've-been, when all they had was here and now.

A part of her couldn't help it.

And Hansel glared at her, and she laughed, because it was late and they needed sleep and _now is not the time to be philosophical, Hansel_, and said just as much. "Now come here and let's get some sleep."

Obediently, he climbed on their bed for the night, rolled to his side to accommodate her, and breathed, "I fucking hate you, you know that? The one time I try to be _thoughtful_-"

She placed a finger on his lips to silence him. "Do it in the morning," Gretel said, and she smiled at him. He smiled back.

Gretel would never be a mother or a wife, an angel, a weakling or even normal, but she was one half of a pair and as she wrapped her arms around Hansel, she thought she was pretty fucking fine with being just that.

_fin_


End file.
